


Every Tear, A Memory

by 51KateSawyer15



Category: Lost
Genre: ALL THE ANGST, Angst, F/M, all I ever write is angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-24
Updated: 2013-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-09 09:29:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/772645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/51KateSawyer15/pseuds/51KateSawyer15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kate hadn’t understood Jack’s obsession with the planes, she hadn’t understood how he could stand the anxiety and distraction that came from being at the airport when there was already so much anxiety and distraction in their lives. That had been before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Tear, A Memory

The stars were so bright out there, in the no man’s land between the main road and the chain-link fence guarding the runway. Lying in the unmown grass a few metres from her parked car Kate stared up at the twinkling lights that seemed to wink down at her, promising to keep her secret. She’d nagged Jack for so long to give up his habit of spending the night at the air port every now and then, watching the planes take off, catching the occasional flight. But now that he’d finally given in she’d taken up his vigil, hiring a nanny at the last moment when Jack phoned to say he’d be home late so she could steal away to the airport. 

Kate hadn’t understood Jack’s obsession with the planes, she hadn’t understood how he could stand the anxiety and distraction that came from being at the airport when there was already so much anxiety and distraction in their lives. That had been before. Now that the trial was over and she was safely home with Aaron, Kate found herself longing for the island life she’d once had. She didn’t belong in this world of tailored suits, paparazzi, high heels and television interviews. She didn’t belong in this world where she had to plaster over her freckles with makeup before leaving the house. Some days Kate wanted to rebel, she wanted to rip all her fancy clothes from their hangers, let her hair-straightener languish in its cupboard under the sink; she wanted to climb something. On those days, when the urge became too strong for her to stay put in her perfect house and play the perfect wife, Kate always found herself at the airport.

As she lay there, gazing up at the stars, a plane passed directly overhead. It was moments like this that Kate lived for. The plane passed so close that for a moment the entire night sky was blotted out as the mechanical beast roared overhead. The wind it created was so strong the long strands of grass surrounding Kate rippled like an emerald ocean. Her hair danced, tangling and falling into her eyes. The sound of the engines grew louder and louder until it blocked out all other noise, the chirping crickets and distantly passing cars suddenly erased from existence. The noise filled her and shook her apart at the same time. A pure moment. Then the plan had passed, flying off into the distance until it was no longer visible against the endless backdrop of stars.

Some days it only took one plane. Other days lying beneath the planes wasn’t enough, no matter how many passed over, and Kate would steel herself and boldly enter the airport. She’d browse the perpetually open shops and stand aimlessly on the travelators, but she’d always end up sitting at one of the gates, watching people hand over their tickets as they boarded their flight. Once, by chance, she happened to find a flight boarding for Sydney. By the time the speaker system called the final boarding call for Flight 907 to Sydney Kate was gripping her plastic seat white-knuckled, holding herself back from running. Running towards or away, she didn’t know. 

One night Kate actually boarded a flight. It was the first time she’d been on a plane since returning from the island. She was sitting at the gate watching people board, her thoughts drifting as she observed, unnoticed, when she caught sight of a shaggy blonde man striding down the connecting corridor to the plane. Her brain switched to autopilot and when she came to she was standing in the plane’s aisle with a ticket in her hand, staring at the blonde man as people queued behind her. The man had almost shoulder-length blonde hair but the resemblance ended there. He was clean-shaven and when he smiled at her he didn’t have dimples.  
“You alright?”. No Southern accent either. 

The disappointment was so crushing that by the time she made her way to her seat, Kate was desperately forcing back tears. The middle-aged woman sitting in the seat next to her seemed to sense her discomfort.  
“Don’t worry, I hate flying too,” she murmured as they started to taxi down the runway. Kate felt hysterical laughter and hysterical tears balancing counterpoint within her, rendering her helpless but to smile shakily in reply as the acceleration pushed her back into her seat. For a few seconds the force was debilitating, immobilising. It was a thousand times more powerful than on the nights when she drove home from the airport alone, just a bit over the speed limit; and a hundred times more powerful than lying under the passing jets. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe.

As the plane levelled out Kate turned to look out the window. Beneath her the roads ran like golden rivers on a map, her house and car indistinguishable pin pricks amidst high-rise buildings like children’s toys and trees like ants. Was her life really that small? Was that really all there was? Kate placed her thumb against the window, blotting out the entire city; everything she was reduced to a grain of sand. 

They hit turbulence about half way through the flight. Kate could hear someone laughing and it took her a few minutes to realise it was her stuttering laughter that was echoing in the quiet confines of the cabin. She slipped past the sleeping woman beside her and strode hurriedly towards the bathroom. Inside the claustrophobic cubicle, Kate stood in the too-blue, artificial aeroplane light, staring at herself in the mirror. The laughter had stopped, only to be replaced by tears. The dam had finally broken; she couldn’t bear to wear the survivor’s mask one second longer. Sitting on the closed lid of the toilet she sobbed, and every tear was a memory, every gasp a lost moment in time. 

Dimpled smiles. _A kiss oughta do it._ Frivolous betting over games of golf. Arguing half-heartedly over anything and everything. _Don’t we deserve somethin’ good?_ Flirting over a campfire, tequila shots in hand. _I’ve never been in love._ Being tickled mercilessly as she swims at the base of a waterfall. Whimpers and gunshot wounds and blood staining the sheets. _Good thing you don’t hate me, Freckles._ Smiles behind bars, separated by only a few impossible metres. _You taste like strawberries. You taste like fish biscuits._ Torrential rain mingling with torrential tears. The click of a gun’s safety. _Close your eyes, Freckles._ Legs swinging as she sits on the bed. _How long do you think we can play house? Why don’t we find out?_ Warm breath whispered in her ear; thumb caressing her cheek as they kiss for the last time. _Just do it, Freckles._

Sitting, broken, in the bathroom Kate chewed her nails until her fingers bled and, when she had wiped away the last of her seemingly endless tears, a glimpse in the mirror showed that her ragged fingers had left bright red streaks across her cheeks. Painful mockeries of tears.

Face freshly scrubbed, Kate slipped back into her seat beside the newly awakened woman.  
“Here you go, sweetie,’ the lady whispered, handing over a travel packet of tissues without further comment on Kate’s reddened, puffy eyes. “Why don’t you try and have a rest? You’ll be home safe before you know it.”

 _You’re gonna be alright. You’re home._ Would she ever be able to go home?


End file.
